Memories of the Heart: A Christian Romance (River Falls Book 3)
Chapter 1
Abigail made sure to keep her eyes closed lightly—not scrunched—and her breathing deep and even as she heard Simeon drop his toothbrush back into the holder. She knew his routine well. Next he’d spritz on a dash of the light, earthy wild sage cologne she loved so much, pat the spot where his hair stuck up in a perpetual cowlick on the right side of his head, then reappear in the bedroom to say goodbye to her before heading off to work.
Only she wouldn’t say it back.
Because she was still sleeping.
The soft swish of the cologne spray was followed two beats later by the bathroom door creaking open. Then a sigh, deep and long, that tore at Abigail’s insides. It was her fault, that sigh.
All of it was her fault.
Simeon’s footsteps shuffled across the hardwood floor to her side of the bed.
Abigail let out a slow, even breath, careful not to let her eyelids flutter as Simeon brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. His scent drifted over her as his lips pressed to her skin, his breath breezing across her cheek with a whispered, “I love you.”
She forced herself to inhale, slow and even, eyes still closed, as he pulled away. It was a moment before she heard his footsteps retreat and the bedroom door click softly closed.
A tear trickled slowly from the corner of her eye, following the line of her nose until it reached her lips. Still she didn’t open her eyes. Getting out of bed would be too much work.
She crunched the pillow under her head, scooting toward Simeon’s side of the bed to soak up any warmth he may have left behind. But it had grown cold.
The sound of Simeon moving around the kitchen drifted up the stairs, and Abigail let herself remember the days when she used to get up with him, when they’d laugh as they got in each other’s way in the small bathroom, when they’d linger over a kiss or two in the kitchen, even if it made them late for work.
It hadn’t been that long ago. They hadn’t even been married for five years yet.
So why did it feel like a lifetime stood between them?
You know why.
Abigail punched at the pillow as the front door opened and closed, its sound echoing up the stairs even though Simeon hadn’t slammed it—he would never slam it. His dress shoes clicked across the driveway, followed by the rumble of his SUV’s engine. She pictured him buckling his seatbelt, adjusting the mirror—he did it every time even though no one else drove the vehicle—and turning down the volume of the radio so he could use his short morning drive time for prayer. She wondered briefly if those prayers included her.
She had tried to work up the energy for her own prayers, but her mind was one big blank when she tried to think about God these days. Well, not so much a blank as cluttered with all the lies and accusations and blame. With all the things she’d done wrong. All the lies she’d told. All the reasons she deserved this punishment he was putting her through.
With a groan, she pressed her fists to her eyes, then opened them. The only thing harder than getting up was lying here and letting her thoughts continue down this path. She peeled herself off her pillow and ran a hand through her tangled hair. Though it was May, the chill of the hardwood bit at her feet as she dragged herself to the bathroom.
The scent of Simeon’s cologne still lingered in the air, and she sucked in a big breath of it. If she closed her eyes, she could probably imagine his arms around her, imagine burying her nose in his shirt and drowning in the comfort of his embrace.
She shook her head and turned on the shower, cranking the temperature to maximum. Steam quickly filled the room, blocking her view of the mirror. Good. She peeled off the sweats she’d slept in, trying hard to avoid looking at the body that had let her down so many times. It didn’t even seem to belong to her anymore, soft and spongy in places that used to be firm and toned. A mom body. Only she wasn’t a mom.
With a sigh, she stepped into the shower, wincing as the scalding water stabbed her shoulders. But even the heat couldn’t drive the thoughts away.
She flipped the water to cold, showered quickly, pulled on a new pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and brushed her teeth, then headed for the kitchen. Simeon had left her favorite mug next to the full coffee carafe. A bright yellow sticky note clung to the front of the mug, and curiosity pulled Abigail forward to read it.
I’ll be home early for our doctor appointment. I love you.
She ran her fingers over the letters. I love you. She’d always teased Simeon that his handwriting was way too neat to be a doctor. To which he’d always reminded her that he wasn’t a doctor, he was a counselor.
It was one of the things that had drawn her to him. He’d been so easy to talk to.
And all you told him was lies.
Abigail set the note down, the I love you still seared against her fingertips, joined by the prickle of guilt. She loved him too. But she was starting to wonder if that was enough. He was such a good man. And she was . . . not who he thought she was. She’d thought she could leave that behind. That she could be someone new. But instead she’d only dragged him into her mess.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and moved to the kitchen table, which overlooked the spacious backyard. The outdoor space was the whole reason they’d bought this house. There was supposed to be a tire swing back there by now. And a sand box. And maybe even a tree house. Instead, it was immaculate. And empty. There was no reason to have all those things when there were no children to use them.